


tell me from the start

by temerity (forsanethaec)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, fool's gold.mp3 and other tales by niall and louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4480310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forsanethaec/pseuds/temerity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>idk they get drunk and fuck in vegas #nouis2015 remind me to change this summary later maybe</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me from the start

**Author's Note:**

> well i've been drinking at a slow but constant rate for like 11 hours but [SHARON](http://archiveofourown.org/users/justaboat) told me to write porn so, um, j'excuse. this is in ref to [this date they had in vegas in may](http://1dgaf.tumblr.com/post/125651268888/x-did-the-thing-where-i-wrote-porn-about-a-nouis) where niall was tryna get it. btw that is also my tumblr. title from "our song" by the xx.

Niall's ears are ringing as Louis shoves him into the back of the town car, yelling something at a pap or a security man or some mystery person by the back entrance they just came out of. He thinks he can still hear the phantom beat from inside as he sits there waiting for Louis to get his arse in the car, eyes adjusting to the dark. But it's probably just in his head. 

The door slams, finally, and Louis slumps down beside him, close but not touching. Niall grins blearily at him. The car starts to move and they both lurch back. 

"Y'alright?" Louis asks. His voice is raspy from shouting in the club -- purple light and vodka tonics, Usher on the mix, Louis' hand at the small of his back and Niall's mouth an inch from his ear, the pretense of shouting to be heard. He can't remember now what they were talking about. Louis' cologne is concentrated in the back of the car -- partition up, and Niall thinks of Beyonce -- his sweat, salt on his neck. Niall chews on his lower lip as he stares at him.

"Niall," Louis laughs softly, snapping his fingers in front of Niall's face.

"What?" Niall blinks, finds Louis' eyes. "I'm good."

"You're wasted, is what you are."

Niall shrugs, can't argue. He leans back against the leather seat, tries to imagine that his body is melting a little, all the tension going out of every part of him. Lets his breath out in a whoosh. Louis laughs again. 

"Where are we going, then," he asks, poking Niall in the side. He's got one leg folded up on the seat, knee out toward Niall, no seatbelt. Niall puts his on. An afterthought.

"I don't know," Niall says. "I didn't tell him anything."

"Probably the hotel," Louis says. "Oi." He raps on the partition, and it slides down. Niall gets a blast of a song he doesn't recognize on the driver's radio -- weird, that tinny sound after the bass of the club -- and Louis says, "Hiya. Where are we going?"

"Bellagio, isn't it?" the guy says. "Or else I'm kidnapping you." He chuckles at his own joke. He seems like a dad. 

"Right you are. Carry on." The partition rolls back up and Louis laughs, leaning back in his seat. "I like that one." 

Niall's staring out the window behind Louis' shoulder, watching the Strip flash by through the tinted glass. A good excuse to look at Louis in the corner of his eye. He's probably being obvious about it, and after a moment he lets his eyes slide all the way over to him again, figures there's no point wasting a view like that. Louis' head is tipped back, his hair mussed down across his forehead like he's been wearing it lately. Stubble on his jaw that Niall wants to put his mouth on. God, he's drunk. He said he wouldn't do this again. 

"Remember," Louis says suddenly, "that time in London?"

Niall licks his lips, slides his eyes slow up to Louis' again. "That's specific," he comments, though he knows damn well which time Louis means, knows instantly. All the parts of him he'd wanted melting earlier -- his arms, the inside of his chest, his thighs -- have gone hot beneath the skin. 

Louis turns his head, holds Niall's gaze. "I mean. In, like, April. When we." His jaw works as he shuts his mouth, clenches his teeth like he's trying not to say anything else. 

"In that car just like this," Niall says, and he grins sidelong in spite of the way his heart is pounding, because he's terrified and frozen but he's also drunk, and it's funny at the same time, Louis bringing it up. So obvious. It's not like they'd agreed not to talk about it -- leaving a club, piled drunk in a towncar, Louis in a different white t-shirt. Louis leaning in to laugh near Niall's shoulder and Niall leaning in, too, magnetic, and catching his mouth -- all unplanned, the slide of their lips, messy, Louis' breath in his mouth. They'd made out for a minute, at least, and then Louis had pulled away sharply and they'd spent the rest of the ride in stiff silence, Niall's blood pounding in his ears. And then Louis had come home with him. 

Louis starts to grin now, too, back in the present, back in another town car drunk together again just the same. "Just like this," he repeats, and then he's laughing, and Niall is too, and somehow the space between them has narrowed and Niall can't remember doing that. It's Louis who doesn't have his seatbelt on, after all. 

"Did we like that?" Louis asks. He's staring at Niall, and then at his mouth, so blatant that Niall thinks for sure he must know what he's doing. He laughs, more like a shiver. 

"We," he says. "I mean." 

Another silence, and then Louis sits back. "Come up if you like," he says, and his shoulders tremble just a little, one tiny shudder. "When we get back." 

"Yeah?" Niall asks. He realizes he still can't hear very well. Louis' raspy voice distant even as close as they are, or that could be Niall's brain struggling to keep up with this. 

"Yeah." Louis shrugs like it's no big deal. Niall thinks it over, trying to see a way he could be right, and concludes that objectively it is a huge deal and there's no getting around that. Then he shrugs too.

"I'll make a gametime decision, then," he says, and Louis grins. Niall can see, dimly, the points of his canines against his lower lip. He sits back and smiles dumbly at the black car wall in front of him. 

Which is how he winds up weaving behind Louis past the door to his own room and up to Louis' own, not saying anything, neither of them are. Louis throws him a grin over his shoulder and shakes his head like it's Niall who's fucking incorrigible, Niall whose idea this was. He slides his key in his door and the dark cool inside hits Niall like a slap in the face.

Louis takes three steps into the foyer, turns and waits for Niall to clear the door as it swings closed. "Why d'you keep the cold turned up so high," Niall mumbles, and then there's the click of the door locking, and Louis steps into his space, hands on his waist inside his jacket and kisses him. 

"Christ," Niall says against Louis' mouth, means to think it but can't keep it from coming out. Louis laughs, steps him against the wall and holds his head as he goes on kissing him, one hand lifting to Niall's hair. Niall groans, too drunk for this and yet there's no such thing, pulls Louis into him at the waist. The soft swell of his hip, and there's still something boozy about his mouth even though they were on water at the end, trying to sober up enough to not look blasted if they got papped going outside. 

Louis is sucking on his tongue, then his lower lip, the catch of his teeth. "We're doing this again," Niall gets out when he can get a breath, doesn't know what he wants Louis to say. Louis laughs low against his mouth.

"Yeah," he says, "we're doing this." He pushes Niall's jacket off his shoulders and Niall finishes the job for him, throws it over the back of a chair before surging back into Louis' space. He stumbles him forward and there's so much about this that's making him crazy, the way Louis goes pliant under him when Niall has him pinned to the opposite wall with his hands and mouth, the way Louis is so sure. Niall feels like he's unraveling more with every passing second while Louis is confident and easy as anything against him. 

Niall kisses across Louis' cheek to the corner of his jaw, down his stubble, opening his mouth against it and letting it rasp against his lips. He's breathing through his nose and it's still loud against Louis' skin, and Louis' hands are in his hair, and he lets out a little whine on an exhale when Niall presses his hips forward and sucks on his pulse point. 

"Bed," Louis gasps, "c'mon." 

The only thing that shocks Niall more than the fact that this is happening again is the fact he'd thought it wouldn't. He follows Louis to bed like he's retracing his steps from the last time, when it had been so unexpected as to be obvious, just -- _sure, this is something we can do now, this can be a thing that happens_. And in the morning the silent agreement. The feeling of a one-off, like it's relegated to memory the second it's over. 

And now it's happening again. Louis is almost shy when he takes his shoes and then his shirt off, looking up at Niall when he drops it on the floor, something unbearably sweet in the duck of his mouth. Niall's mouth is open, can't move, can't stop staring at Louis sat on the edge of his bed. His chest flushed in the low dark and the sweet little fold across his stomach. 

He laughs when it becomes clear that Niall doesn't know where to go from here, scoots up the bed and against the headboard. "Don't leave me hanging, Nialler," he says, and Niall startles. He tugs his shirt off over his head, loses his shoes and socks and peels off his jeans and crawls onto the bed over Louis. 

"Why, uh," he starts, not sure how he wants to say it. He touches' Louis' waist, settles down across his hips so Louis is staring up at him. It's a nice angle. Stars in his bloodshot eyes. "Why tonight, instead of --"

"Shut up about it," Louis interjects, leaning up to kiss Niall again, and it could be cutting or tense but it's not, at least that's not how Niall's body takes it -- like permission not to worry. His heartbeat is almost painful, sharp with want. He's in briefs astride Louis' hips and he reaches between them to fumble for Louis' flies as they kiss, trying to do everything at once, until Louis laughs into his mouth and pushes him away just enough to get the jeans off himself. "Don't know why I left those on," he says, and then, after a moment's pause, he pushes his briefs off too. 

Niall's mouth floods. It's the second time in as many months he's seen Louis' dick like this, fattened up against the crease of his thigh, begging for Niall's attention. And so he crawls back between Louis' legs again and curls one hand around his cock and leans down. 

Louis groans when Niall's tongue circles the head of his cock, and Niall hears his head hit the padded headboard behind him. "Was hoping you'd wanna do this again," he says. Niall hums, slides his lips down and sucks for just a moment then pulls off. 

"Don't objectify me," he says, lips brushing Louis' cock, and Louis laughs breathlessly. 

"I will if I like," he says. "Fuck, Niall." 

Niall sucks him off like that for a while, keeping at the head, until Louis' hands tighten in his hair and the high, breathless noises he makes turn to actual moans, to his hips jerking up under the twist of Niall's tongue. Niall pushes lower, letting his mouth go sloppy around Louis' dick. The whole rest of his body is tense to keep his throat relaxed, even as ideas about where they could go from here bounce around in his head. 

He pulls off, throat raw, and Louis makes a weak little noise of protest. 

"D'you wanna come like this?" Niall asks, looking up at him. If Louis lifted his hips right now, his cock would hit Niall in the chin. Niall manages not to laugh at this, keeping his eyes on Louis'.

"Was planning on it," Louis says, breathy. "You have another idea?" 

"Kinda," Niall says. "You said last time --"

"Oh. Yeah." It had been all fumbling handjobs and dirty talk last time, in Niall's room at home instead of a hotel room in Vegas but same idea. Louis licks his lips. "Yeah, alright." 

"Only if you want to." 

"I want to," Louis says, and he's licking and licking his lower lip, worrying it til it's red like they were just kissing a moment ago. He nods, for emphasis. Niall thinks he's going to burst into flames with how hot he is under his skin, how it's sending wave after wave of heat through him any time Louis moves or makes a sound or just exists, solid, hot-blooded under Niall's hands. "There's -- I'll get it." 

He extricates himself from Niall, cupping his hard-on as he bounces up off the bed and into the loo. Niall gets a flash of his illuminated arse as the light comes on, and then it's too bright and he has to look away. Still drunk, middle of the night, god. He's been awake too long, and it's goddamn freezing in this hotel room, and he can feel his heartbeat under his skin. He takes his briefs off, as an afterthought, and then he sprawls out beside where Louis had been, waiting for him to reappear. His mind is strangely blank. Acceptance that this is just casually happening, or a defense mechanism or something. He licks his lips and they taste like sex. 

Louis comes back with a condom in its wrapper between his teeth and one free hand, a little bottle of lube curled in the other palm. He shuts the bathroom light off and Niall's head spins in the fresh dark for a second before he feels the mattress shift, feels the heat of Louis coming closer and then the slip of his skin. 

He starts to get himself ready on his own and Niall's content to watch, Louis vaulted up over him, braced with a hand on Niall's thigh as he fingers himself open. He goes gasping and shaky with it and Niall's fantasized about this a thousand times, slipping between utter shock that it's happening to him and a pure, breathless want that subsumes everything else. 

"Did you think about this," Louis gasps, out of nowhere. The wet sounds of his lube-slick fingers fucking himself. Niall gapes up at him and slides his hands over Louis' thighs, smoothing out the goosebumps there. "Before, I mean -- between, like, last month and now, did--"

"Yeah," Niall says, and then laughs, almost nervous, didn't mean to say it without figuring out the right answer. "God, Lou."

"Good," Louis huffs, "I -- fuck. When -- going home with those girls. I just." He stops again, and for a long moment there's only the sound of his fingers and the white noise in Niall's head, hanging on the end of that sentence. 

"Wanted you all night," Niall says finally, to fill the space. It's low and uncertain, an offering: _here's bait if you want it,_ and _whatever this is we're in it together,_ and _would it be easier if I told you it's always been you for me, every time, before after and during._ Louis' hand drops to his side. 

"I know," he breathes, and he leans in and kisses Niall, so slow and deep that it contains the full swell of the ache Niall feels at those words. "Like this," he says when he pulls back, and he lies down on his side beside Niall, back to chest. "Shit, I'm lying on the condom." He laughs, and the moment breaks. 

Niall grins into his back, teeth on the top of his spine. He gets the condom on, more lube, spreads Louis open and kisses behind his ear, slips a hand along his thigh and hitches it up to make it easier, lines himself up. Louis is breathing steadily, and Niall wonders if his eyes are open or closed, wants to know what he's thinking, wants to get to do this all the time. He exhales against Louis' shoulder. _Focus._ Then he pushes into him.

Little by little, at first, the head of his cock and Louis stupidly tight around him, makes him see spots. Then more, rocking up into Louis, and Louis is so tense, restless, squirming. "You've gotta relax," Niall mumbles, and he pushes a hand beneath Louis until Louis gets the hint and lifts his torso a little so Niall can wrap an arm around his chest, pulling them closer together. He fucks into him deeper and then pulls out, feeling Louis' chest rise and fall beneath his hand, thinks of how they were in the car an hour ago and in public an hour before that, shouting in each other's ears. He's dizzy with it, and then he's bottomed out, and he lets his breath out all at once and Louis does too. 

They stay like that for a second, heat radiating all through Niall with how tight Louis is, sweat between his back and Niall's chest and Niall doesn't know who it belongs to. He isn't even cold where they're not touching, now. Then Louis shifts his hips.

"Alright," he whines, and Niall laughs against the side of his neck, dipping his fingers into the hot space behind Louis' knee that he's holding up almost against his chest as he fucks him slow. 

"Can you kiss me," he says, voice coming out gravelly, and Louis turns his head over his shoulder to do it, getting the corner of Niall's mouth then crying out against it when Niall thrusts up hard. He's never as loud as Niall thinks he'll be -- never, they've done this twice, and Niall gasps thinking it, kisses Louis again to cover it -- but when he does make a sound it lances through Niall every time, makes him hold Louis tighter, fuck him harder.

They're moving together now, Niall's feet scrabbling for purchase beneath the sheets that are shoved down around his ankles. Louis has one hand dug in under the pillows and the other with fingers clutching at Niall's bony hip as he fucks him, gasping on every thrust. Niall tilts his hips up for a better angle and Louis moans desperately, burying his face in the pillow. Niall kisses the side of his neck, tastes sweat. He's having to chase Louis' body as Louis curls in on himself, trembling. 

"You close," Niall asks, says, really, it's not much of a mystery. Louis nods, and Niall lets go of his thigh and starts to jerk him off. It makes Louis shout, almost, when Niall's thumb smears over the head of his cock, fingers tight around him. 

"Niall," he gasps. "Like -- just like that," the barely-there bite of his fingernails digging into Niall's hip, "god, fuck," and Niall thrusts up and bottoms out against him one more time and he comes with a gasp, his body going taut against Niall while he spills in wet ropes over Niall's fist. He keeps shaking through it, finally goes still and relaxes. Chest heaving beneath Niall's hand. 

"Fuck," he breathes. "C'mon." 

That Louis is thinking so immediately of Niall getting off makes Niall shudder all over, makes him bury his face in Louis' neck. He holds him tight, one hand back under his thigh, fucks little huffs of breath out of him. 

"Tighter," he mumbles, even though it's already impossibly tight, and Louis clenches up obediently around him. Niall groans, the sounds dragging out against Louis' shoulderblade, fucks him through the rising tide of it until his hips stutter up hard and he comes against the press of the condom, clutching Louis everywhere he can reach. 

Niall's ears are ringing when it's over. He can't remember if they've been doing that the whole time or not. He shifts awkwardly away from Louis, softening dick sliding out of him. Louis sighs, stretches his bent leg out gingerly. 

"Christ," he says. 

Niall stares at the ceiling for a second, then sits up and goes to get rid of the condom. He wets a hand towel and brings it back for Louis, who's still curled on his side, watching Niall walk around. 

"You wanna stay?"

"I mean." Niall shrugs, self-conscious standing naked in the backlight of the bathroom beside the bed. Louis smirks, pats the space behind him, and Niall feels his shoulders drop with relief in spite of himself. 

He slips back into bed, waits for Louis to clean himself up and then turn toward Niall. He's still flushed all the way down his chest, so Niall can't imagine how his own pale skin looks. But Louis doesn't make fun of that.

"Is this the part where we talk about it," he says, wrinkling his nose, poking Niall in the stomach in a way that ends with him fanning his fingers out against his side, stroking. 

Niall laughs. "We don't have to," he says, and it's the truth, a surprise. "We could just -- I could sleep, I mean." 

Louis shuts his eyes serenely, like a happy cat, hums his approval. He curls up easily against Niall, lets Niall put an arm around his shoulders. Niall noses against his hair, breathes him in, gets drunk all over again.

"I'm glad it's been you," Louis mumbles finally. "I'd… rather." But he doesn't finish the sentence, as per usual. He's been even cagier with his feelings than normal since Eleanor, since Zayn, cagier and somehow easier to read all at once. Bright and open and coping with it like he does. 

At least Niall knows this means something to him. That wasn't always easy to tell, and now here it is, curled up in his arms. His throat's a little tight, head too fuzzy to work through it. 

"Lou," he murmurs, so low in his throat it's barely there. Louis looks up at him and Niall touches his cheek, kisses him softly, the corner of his mouth and then his lips again. Louis is still gazing at him, blinking slowly. Reminds Niall of himself. "Jesus. Too drunk," he says finally. Louis grins. 

"You are that," he says. He shuts his eyes, nestles closer. "Did alright, though."

"Oh, thanks, mate." 

"Might let you again sometime, if you like," Louis says, quiet like maybe Niall won't hear him, and Niall doesn't push it, fights sleep until Louis goes soft in his arms and his breathing steadies and then lets himself pass out.


End file.
